Criminal
by Graceful Amethyst
Summary: Before a big hit on a local bank, Quinn and Santana go out to have some fun.  Fun ends up translating into a pretty dancer and a mesmerizing singer. Faberry sundae with Brittana sprinkles.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee nor its characters. Also, excuse the inaccuracies. I certainly wasn't going for historically accurate facts. _

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><p><strong>Bang, bang<strong>

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><p>The ambiance inside was nice; with dim lighting and idle chatter all throughout. It was a welcomed change of pace, a much needed moment of privacy—no matter how brief it were. They had received the new shipment of firearms earlier in the day, and plans to infiltrate the local bank were already in motion. It was all wearing Quinn down, both physically and mentally. But giving up wasn't what had given her fame for being an up and coming entity within underground affairs. Santana, her right-hand woman, seemed to share her sentiments regarding the establishment, brown eyes scanning the area and lips curled into a roguish grin that almost scared Quinn. Santana was prone to getting in trouble, especially when she decided she needed some 'fun', so an eye had to be kept on her most of the time. Tugging on the narrow black tie wrapped around her collar, Quinn tried her best to fix it — though, it was already perfect. She felt antsy, for whatever reasons; hands unable to stay still. Clearing her throat and pulling her fedora down a bit, just so it covered her eyes slightly, she nodded towards an empty table.<p>

"Lead the way," said the Latina in good humour, hands in the pockets of her dress pants. A waitress walked by her and the woman whistled softly, making Quinn chuckle at her behaviour. There was no way to change Santana, and, looking at her closely for a second, it was clear that she'd be having her own party soon. In her black pin-stripped suit, the other woman clearly was dashing, and the ladies were quick to notice that little fact. It definitely wouldn't be long before she "brought the house down with her bad self", as the Latina herself liked to say.

Shaking her head, Quinn decided to finally make her way to the aforementioned table, thinking about herself this time. Quite honestly, she was never one who needed help with potential lovers. She was attractive, in her own right. Different from Santana, who was known for her devilish brown eyes and tan skin, yet an undeniable pull surged from her clear hazel eyes. Or so she had been told. Unlike her partner-in-crime, she wasn't one for company. Not that she didn't yearn a partner in that sense, but she had yet to find one who would be able to make compromises. Compromises regarding her career were important. Life or death situations. And Quinn wasn't sure if she was ready to thrust that burden upon another. A person that she was supposed to make happy, not bother and worry and make empty promises to. Promises she wouldn't be able to keep in the end. Hence, why she had waited. The right person hadn't appeared, so far, and she wasn't in any hurry. Rushing these affairs was not very good, she knew from old, personal experience.

That didn't mean, however, that feeling so alone at night wasn't clawing at her, pulling at her heart strings. Because it was.

Resignation was something Quinn was also getting used to, she thought with a sigh. There were more important matters, currently, on her table. Romantic interests would have to wait.

_'Speaking of important matters…'_

The Latina was already seated opposite of her, eyes fixed on every pretty lady that passed by their table, smiling, teeth bared with such ferocity that Quinn might've mistaken her for a predator. Santana certainly didn't half-ass things and it was almost comical, in a way. Leaning in and over the table as she took a seat herself, Quinn muttered in a low voice so only Santana would hear her, "You made sure that there wasn't any… unwanted presence within the establishment before entering, yeah?"

Not taking her eyes off a pretty, pretty blonde dancer and swaying to the light jazz music the band was playing, Santana could only scoff.

"You do underestimate me, Q. You'd think I'd risk ourselves like that? C'mon. Gimme a bit more credit, will ya?" The statement was followed by a tan hand pulling at her suit coat, revealing the Colt holstered to her side, neatly tucked in. In case of emergencies, of course. The revelation made Quinn feel the weight of her own revolver and it brought an instant sense of security. Being with Santana also added to the feeling. The woman had finally caught the eye of the pretty blonde dancer and, with a shit-eating grin that made Quinn want to punch her in the face (all in good fun, of course), she whistled and curled her index finger at the her, beckoning. "Now, let Mama have some _fun_."

Quinn sighed again, resignation setting in once more. It was their night off —though, crime never rested, she mused— and Santana, hard worker she was, deserved some entertainment. Which, apparently, came in the form of a tall blonde, currently sitting beside the Latina. The sequined green dress did little to hide the lithe body underneath it, and Quinn found herself unable to look away, just for a second. Because it did bring out the green in her eyes, too. The green eyes that were currently glued to Santana, as the girl did her best to act smooth and suave, whispering things Quinn couldn't hear in the girl's ear, chuckling coolly whenever whatever she'd said made the blonde giggle.

A familiar pang of jealousy hit Quinn, even though the small spectacle made her smile. She was happy for Santana. Because she knew that, deep down, the other girl, no matter how many petty trysts she engaged in, was as alone as her. And something about Brittany—Quinn learned the name when the blonde slapped Santana's shoulder playfully at something she said and the woman called out to her, pouting cutely— it was different than the others. She could tell by the way Santana's eyes seemed to glaze over, a melting, swirling pool of chocolate that radiated…warmth. Unlike the cold edge her glare carried normally; the one that made even the toughest, underground criminals tremble in fear.

That was gone, for now. And Quinn ignored the envy and jealousy she felt, deciding to entertain herself by looking around, tapping her foot to the jazz music that filtered throughout the whole establishment. Sighing at the constant giggles and hushed whispers coming from the other end of the table, Quinn reached into the pocket inside her coat, taking out a metal cigarette holder and opened it to reveal two perfectly organised rows of cigarettes.

Pressing the butt of the cigarette to her lips, she was patting her pockets next, looking for the small lighter to finally get her dose of tobacco when something caught her attention.

The stage, which had previously been empty (with the exception of the big band), now had another occupant. All she could see was a black dress, brown curls, and full lips the colour of blood.

Her breath hitched. And the cigarette hanging from her lip dangled limply for a split second before falling to her lap, unnoticed and forgotten.

A microphone stood tall in the center of the stage and those blood-red lips parted as they leaned in close.

"_Bang, bang. I shoot you down._" The word spilled past her lips in a tone that was thick and sweet at the same time, similar to those caramel candies Santana was so fond of. But the voice was clear, and so, so breathtaking that Quinn stood up abruptly, the confines of her coat, vest, and starchy white dress shirt feeling too stifling all of a sudden.

Nonetheless, hazel eyes remained glued to the person on stage, ears perked at the haunting melody that radiated from the small woman. She wasn't the only on enchanted by her beautiful voice, as the whole place had gone eerily quiet. Even Santana and Brittany stopped giggling like little girls. Although, that was also caused by Quinn's sudden movement.

_"Bang, bang. You hit the ground."_

"Damn," Santana muttered beside her, Brittany pressed against her comfortably, a knowing smile curling her lips. "That itty bitty lady sure has a—" She stopped talking when Quinn gave no signs of listening to her.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Santana staring at her. Rather intensely. Before the shit-eating grin was plastered on her face again. Snatching Quinn's cigarette holder from the table, she took one for herself, offering the blonde one in the process. "I knew you had it in ya, Fabray. Never pegged you for a brunette lover, though." Santana grinned at her, taking a drag from her recently lit cigarette.

"Bang, bang. That awful sound."

Quinn felt herself tense before relaxing, trying to drown out the dulcet tones of the singer on stage, and calm her heart in the meantime.

"Her name's Rachel." The blonde, who was now seated on Santana's lap quite contentedly, confided with a giggle, green eyes twinkling. "You should talk to her after the show. I think," she leaned in closer and whispered the following part, "she might like you. You're just the kind of song she needs to sing."

It made no sense. And Quinn didn't waste time pretending she understood what the dancer meant, but a sense of confidence washed over her. Confidence in Brittany's cryptic words and what she should do next.

_"Bang, bang. I used to shoot you down."_

The performance ended with a loud round of applause. The singer flashed a pretty smile and nodded her head humbly as she exited the stage.

Though, not before coffee-coloured eyes settled curiously on Quinn and disappeared behind a curtain.

"Hey, Q. I'm gonna… walk over there with Britt here. We're gonna go to the car, you need, uh…?" Santana queried around her cigarette, blowing puffs of smoke out into the cold night air. Brittany, now with a long coat shielding her from the low temperature, was still glued to her side, as she had been the entire night.

"No, that's okay. I'm going to…" Quinn's words drifted off, pointing to the alley that gave way to the back door of the establishment; the one the dancers and performance used. Without another word, she made her way to the back entrance.

There, she leaned against the wall next to the door and smoked a cigarette as more dancers exited the building. Everyone except the singer. One minute of waiting turned to two. Two turned into five, and five into ten.

By her third cigarette, Quinn was about to lose hope when the door opened once more, and the black dress, brown hair, and red lips made an appearance again. At first, Quinn simply stared. Mostly because watching from afar was nothing compared to standing face to face with the woman. An eyebrow rose curiously and it wasn't hers, for once.

She could barely breathe, let alone move.

"You know, I kinda figured I'd run into you." The same voice from before, quieter now and with a barely noticeable accent that made Quinn wonder, addressed her. The owner of the voice smiled widely, and, honestly, it was disarming.

It wasn't like Santana's cocky smirk, or her own knowing half-grin.

Rather, it was such a brilliant smile, laced with confidence and intertwined with humility. With just a touch of lingering sweetness. The thought almost made Quinn scoff. Santana wouldn't ever let her live it down, if she knew just what a simple smile was provoking within her. _'You're going soft, Fabray._'

For now, though, she cleared her throat and smiled in a way that she desperately hoped was charming, turning her face up to look at the singer fully, and let her face be seen, too. The glint on the brunette's eyes wasn't lost on her, and it helped spur her on with more confidence.

"I hoped you would." The woman took a step closer to her and Quinn stood straight, looking down at her from her full-height. "You have a beautiful voice, might I add. Your performance was spectacular."

"Mhm," the woman consented with a smile, pearly whites shining under the streetlight. "I should've figured you'd be a flatterer, too." The small jab was delivered with one of those toothy grins Quinn was already feeling irreparably drawn to.

She chuckled at that, raising a hand to her hat and taking it off slowly, running her fingers through slicked back blonde hair. Warm brown eyes followed her every move.

"Well, I like to think of myself as an honest person. I'm merely stating facts, Rac—" Her words died in her throat when the woman's eyes widened slightly. Trying to suppress the blush that threatened to stain her cheeks, she tried to do some back-tracking and damage control. "Where are my manners? I'm Quinn. Quinn Fabray. It's a pleasure to meet you. Your friend, Brittany, told me your name. She was getting, hm… _acquainted_ with a close friend of mine." Shuffling nervously under the singer's inquiring gaze, Quinn tried her best to reel in her emotions. And failed somewhat miserably, if the amused smile the other woman shot her way was of any indication.

"Well, as you already know, I'm Rachel Berry. Pleasure to meet you, too, Quinn. Might I say you have a lovely name," Brown eyes took in her appearance, from the neatly combed blonde hair, to her black suit, and shiny dress shoes. The smile on Rachel's face widened just a fraction as she added, "It's very… _fitting_."

"Is that so? I'm glad you think so. I could say the same thing." Hazel eyes zeroed in on the singer's amused smile, on her warm eyes. She could feel the blush spreading and noticed the twitch on Rachel's smile once more. It made her uneasy, feeling so nervous, something she was not used to, yet at the same time, it was exhilarating. The woman before her, clad in the little black dress she'd seen earlier and a long black coat above it, was intriguing. There was that irresistible pull again, making her step even closer.

"Mhm." Rachel assured her quietly, eyes scanning Quinn's face for something, smile never faltering. It made her falter instead, and Quinn had to look down and away from Rachel. From the corner of her eye, Rachel's smile widened a fraction. "My, you're quite shy, aren't you? It's infinitely endearing."

And the blush finally broke loose, spreading across her cheeks like a wildfire. Clearing her throat to hold the tidal wave of feelings back, Quinn looked at her with a serious but honest expression. "Maybe it's you that caused this sudden bout of shyness in me."

The brunette had the decency to blush prettily at that and Quinn licked her lips anxiously because, yeah, she could get used to seeing that a lot more.

All the time, preferably.

To save the girl from feeling too embarrassed — she was, admittedly, not a master at flirting like Santana, so she had her doubts — Quinn politely offered her a cigarette, smiling slightly. Rachel, who had recovered by now, looked at the offered cigarette holder, then at the cigarette perched on her bottom lip. Graceful fingers took hold of the half-smoked cigarette, brushing her lip just so, and Quinn did nothing but watch closely, swallowing thickly at the brief contact.

Rachel took a drag of the cigarette, eyes never leaving Quinn. Something seemed to click in her, as if what she'd been searching for was finally found. That same thing gave Quinn the courage to press a hand to Rachel's hip and pull her closer, the fedora she had been holding falling to the ground unceremoniously. The woman against her gasped slightly before putting a hand on her chest, warmth seeping through her body even against the thick fabric of her suit. Quinn's breath hitched because Rachel felt so good against her it made her want to do things. However strong the pull she felt, though, she was scared motionless, afraid that pushing it would scare Rachel.

"Ra-Rachel," Quinn warned and took a deep breath, trying to hold on to whatever semblance of self-control she had left in her.

Of course, that didn't help at all when Rachel's body pressed against her fully and red lips claimed hers. The movement made her stagger backwards until her back hit the hard wall of the building. Her own hands found purchase on the brunette's slim waist, pulling her with as close as possible as they kissed with abandon.

A hand cupped Quinn's cheeks and she had to force herself to focus on what she was doing when a thumb idly stroked her warm skin. But it wasn't until she felt Rachel nipping at her bottom lip lightly that she finally moved. She turned rather abruptly, pulling the brunette with her movement, and pressed her against the wall, keeping her in place with her own body. Rachel blushed at the sensation and Quinn smiled at her reaction; her hand sought out Rachel's, the one that had been, impressively, holding on to the 'stole' cigarette during their abrupt make-out session. Taking the cigarette from her, she brought it to her lips and inhaled deeply, staring down at Rachel as the brunette stared blatantly at her lips. And Quinn stared back coolly, for once.

Puffing out a cloud of smoke, she leaned in, brushing her cheek with Rachel's and feeling the girl's body tense as she did.

"Stealing is bad," she husked, warm breath feathered against even warmer skin. "Trust me. I should know." She chuckled and pressed a kiss to the corner of Rachel's lips.

The singer parted her lips and a tongue peeked out to wet them, Quinn following the movement with a heady gaze. Her lips were swollen from their kiss, lip-stick smeared around it slightly. It made her want to kiss her again, so she did, locking eyes with shimmering brown ones as she dipped down for a languid kiss. Rachel moaned against her mouth, and her content hum sent a shiver down her spine, the feeling being amplified when the woman put her hands on her lower back. It was her the one that made a sound that time around, groaning when the hands slipped underneath her coat and ran up her back slowly. Pulling back from Rachel, she let herself be immersed in the sensations brought forth by the little woman in her arms. It was intoxicating; the kind of feeling Quinn had been looking for. And she'd be damned if she let it go now. Or ever, really.

Taking a sobering breath, Quinn looked down at Rachel, who smiled at her in that disarming way of hers, and stepped away from her. With some space now, the brunette made quick work of fixing her dress and hair, which had become quite disheveled during their… close encounter.

In turn, Quinn fixed her coat and tie, bending down to retrieve her fedora from the ground and patting the dirt from it.

"Let me give you a ride home, Rachel." She offered seriously, her words carrying a lot more weight than they usually did. And whatever hidden meaning there was in her statement, Rachel caught it.

"Hm," the singer pondered briefly before stepping close to her again, closing what little distance Quinn had managed to salvage. Nimble fingers threaded through her blonde hair, brushing it back and massaging her scalp lightly. A thumb then wiped the corner of her lip, where red lip-stick had been smudged all over. Quinn blushed at the attention, but let the girl fix her up now, quite content to be on the receiving end of such affection. With a final pat to her chest, Rachel bit her lip and smiled at her. "Thank you very much for the offer, but I have my own car."

Quinn visibly deflated at being rejected. However, Rachel leaned in a pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, smile widening broadly once they parted.

"But maybe I'll accept your offer if you come to my show tomorrow. I'll be waiting."

With that, the singer strutted away, hips swaying. Quinn swallowed thickly before looking up to the sky and grinning stupidly, still surprised at what had just transpired.

Santana was gonna have a _field trip._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Written late at night for a friend with the prompt 'crime lords'. This was my, rather unoriginal, take on it, but I hope it was relatively enjoyable, nonetheless. I tried Quinn in a new light, because my friends enjoys a Quinn portrayed in another fic, so if she's a bit out of character, I apologise. I tried to keep her as in character as possible, while also showing a different side of her. _

_ It might get continuation if my friends deems it so. _

_Reviews are always welcome. :D_


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